Let it Snow
by whitetiger91
Summary: Despite many disappointments so far, Hermione is sure she can find her parents before Christmas. Draco isn't so sure. With Australia's climate being so vastly different from England's, can they have the Christmas she wants? Written for the Secret Santa event on Diagon Alley II.


**Let it Snow**

 _ **For Shane (NightmarePrince): Inspired by my favourite Aussie-based fic of yours, Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy this! -Tigger (whitetiger91)**_

* * *

"Can we go back now? My feet are sore from all this walking."

"In a little bit, I just want to check this place out," the bushy-haired brunette called back, increasing her pace along the street.

Draco huffed impatiently, adjusting the small load upon his back. His feet really were aching, his leg muscles protesting with each step he took. The sun beat down relentlessly, reflecting off the bitumen and into his eyes each time he dared to look across the road to the tempting blue waves of the beach. He was beginning to regret his decision to refuse to ride around in one of those Muggle cars Hermione called a 'taxi'- no matter how much they smelt and how cramped inside they appeared, perhaps they would've been better than sharing a busy street with Muggles pushing past his shoulder all the time. It was bad enough that he was dressed in these ridiculous, unflattering Muggle shorts in public.

"How much further?"

"It's that shop just up there."

Draco squinted as he looked up at the various metal shop signs hanging from the shop verandas. Most of them advertised surf-ware of some sort, including these strange, large, pointed boards. In between these shops, there were a few little cafes surrounded by white, plastic chairs and tables, the occupants of which stared out haughtily at passers-by as they sipped from their coffee cups. Draco glared back at them in annoyance, wondering why they felt the need to act so self-important.

Hermione hadn't seemed to notice them, however, as she stood outside a small shop window, biting her lip anxiously. As Draco got closer to her, he could see that she was looking into a light blue room with a large white counter in the centre. Large block letters across the glass proclaimed it to be 'Bondi Orthodontist – Smiles Worthy of the Stars'.

"Nice decorations," Draco scoffed, nodding his head towards the poor excuse of a Christmas tree sitting next to the desk. Many of the branches were bare, save for a few, flimsy plastic baubles in dull silver and gold tones. "Muggles call _that_ a Christmas tree? It doesn't even look real."

"It's not – there aren't really many natural pine trees here. It's different in England; fresh trees, mounds of food, tinsel that glitters… there isn't even any snow here." Hermione sighed heavily, turning around to look at the beach and clear skyline.

Very few clouds were scattered across the sky; thin wisps that couldn't have held rain let alone snow. The only other white objects in the sky were the dozen or so noisy seagulls who were begging for chips from the picnickers sitting on the low, grassy knoll. "Doesn't matter though, I'm sure this is the place we're looking for." Hermione shook her head quickly as she turned back to the shop front, her face taking on a more determined expression.

Following her gaze to the shop once more, Draco doubted that this was the place that would lead them to the Grangers. For the last few months, he and Hermione had been to every dentist along the east coast of Australia, having found that her parents had moved from their 'safe house' over a year ago. So far, they had had little luck discovering where they had gone, Hermione sure that her father had continued his dental practice somewhere. FIX. From the people they had come across, no one had even heard of the Wilkins' or Grangers' before. It was thus fairly likely that they would have the same bad luck with this place.

Still, having noticed the watery quality Hermione's eyes seemed to take on, Draco did not voice his reservations. Pushing open the large door and cringing at the tinkling of the bell above it, he followed Hermione inside.

A girl in her early twenties sat behind the desk, her long nails tapping away at a box of small, lettered squares that sat in front of a larger, buzzing grey box. Her gaze remained focused upon the machine, ignoring them as they approached her.

Hermione glanced at Draco, before clearing her throat. "Ahem."

The receptionist clicked her tongue impatiently and continued to tap away, pausing only to swipe a stray strand of dark hair back into her bun.

Growing impatient himself, Draco looked at the all the strange objects on the desk. Next to a funny looking statue of a deer, he noticed a round, silver bell. Reaching forward, he pressed the trigger, glaring pointedly at the woman. When she eventually sighed and looked up at him, he pressed it again, just to ensure that she knew he was someone she should not ignore.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked, clearly annoyed as she slid the bell away from Draco's grasp.

Frowning at him, Hermione stepped forward and began the same, familiar speech that now seemed rehearsed. "Yes. I'm looking for someone. A doctor – erm, dentist –"

Looking Hermione up and down, the receptionist interrupted with a small sneer, "All our doctors are very busy at the moment… and expensive. Which one do you want?"

"I'm looking for Dr Wilkins," Hermione replied, undeterred.

"Nup, never heard of him."

"Are- are you sure? Perhaps he goes by Dr Granger?"

"Never heard of him either. Look, are you sure it's _this_ practice he works in?" the lady asked, lifting her chin and trailing her eyes up and down Hermione's form again.

Hermione nodded, ignoring the woman's attitude. Draco, however, was fast becoming sick of the woman's arrogance and decided it best he took over.

"Of course we're sure. Do you think we'd waste our time and come in here if we weren't?" Sneering, Draco looked around the room in the same distasteful manner that the lady had looked at Hermione. "Now, I don't think your boss would be too pleased to hear how you treated his son, now, would you? I suggest you find out where Dr Wilkins is and let us know."

Her eyes widening in surprise, she asked, "You're related to Dr Thomas? I always thought he was, y' know, gay or whatever. I didn't know he had a son. Wow, better tell Mandy, I'm sure she'll be pleased."

"That's right, now Dr Wilkins if you please," Draco replied condescendingly, glad she had not called his bluff.

"Oh, ugh, alright, fine. Just give me a sec." Muttering under her breath about children interrupting her social time, the receptionist pulled out a small, black book from the files behind her. Flipping through the pages quickly, she sighed heavily. "What was his name again?"

"Dr Wilkins."

"Wilkins, Wilkins… that's W-I-L, right?"

"Yes."

"Um, no, can't see a- oh, wait a minute. Yes, right here, Dr Wilkins."

Hermione beamed at Draco, her eyes glistening. She was now half-leaning against the counter, almost as if she would climb over it just to see her father's name written down somewhere.

Unfortunately, the woman snapped the small book closed. "But it seems he left six months ago. Went down south apparently – don't ever know why though, Tasmania is so bloody cold."

"Where in Tasmania did he go?" Hermione asked, not ready to give up.

"I can't tell you that," the woman replied with a sneer. Then, turning back to the grey box and sighing as it made a beeping sound, she asked, "Now is there something else I can help you two with or can I get back to my work?"

Turning on her heel, Hermione stormed out towards the door. Draco heard her muttering under her breath about 'rude service' and 'checking e-mails' as she walked.

Stepping forward, he said, "Thanks for all your 'help'." Then, for good measure, he rang the bell on the desk before following Hermione out onto the humid street.

* * *

"Stupid Muggles, how do they do this?" Draco muttered to himself as he pressed all the coloured buttons on the little black rectangle Hermione called a 'remote.'

For the life of him, Draco could not remember which one would turn on the television – or as he liked to call it, 'idiot box' – in front of him. He didn't really like looking into the tiny screen, for the people inside looked trapped, yet there was nothing else to do in the cramped hotel room. After digging his fingers into all keys at once with no results, he gave up and threw it onto the lounge.

"Did you remember to check the batteries?" Hermione asked as she came into the room, dragging a suitcase behind her.

"Of course I did," Draco grumbled, feeling his cheeks burn. "Anyway, what are you bringing that thing out for?"

Sighing impatiently, she replied, "It's my bag for Tasmania. I just need to get a few things and then we can be off."

"What, now?"

"Well of course now. My parents are down there, I want to go and find them."

"Yeah, but, it's Christmas Eve."

"And?"

"Well, I sort of planned on relaxing today."

"We didn't come here for a holiday, Draco."

Draco shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "Do you even know where in Tasmania they are? I mean, look at this country, its humungous! I mean, we've been to over forty beaches in the last week for Merlin's sake! We're probably going to end up walking around all day just looking for another crap hotel to stay at."

Blushing furiously, Hermione whispered, "My parents are worth it." Then, reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a small, folded piece of paper, her blush deepening. "As a matter of fact, I do know where they are. Whilst you were lounging around all afternoon yesterday I found a local library-"

"Of course you did," he murmured.

Hermione chose to ignore Draco's comment and continued, "-and I found a place where a Mr and Mrs Wilkins live, not too far from Hobart. I mean it makes sense that they'd want to go there; they've always loved the mountains and rivers they have. It's a very beautiful landscape, actually, and I've read that it has a fascinating convict history. Did you know many of the city's buildings are from the 19th century? Anyway, it fits that they'd be there and I don't want to waste any more time wondering."

Draco began to kick the low coffee table as he listened to Hermione, though it only caused his already aching feet to throb. It was so typical of her to want to jump on a lead because it was the only clue they had. Bloody Gryffindor. He understood her need to know where her parents were, but couldn't she wait? Couldn't he have a day to simply relax his muscles, to rest his strained back?

"Couldn't we at least wait until after Christmas?"

"Draco, please, this is important to me. I thought you said you didn't mind all this."

Still kicking the table in frustration, he replied, "That was before I realised I'd be bitten by about a million bugs and forced to visit the bush."

"Please Draco…"

Looking up at her face, Draco simply shook his head. He couldn't do it, not now.

"Fine, I'll go myself."

Hermione ducked her head, trying to hide the tears that swelled in her eyes. Her lips were pressed together in that all-too-familiar way that Draco knew meant that she would not change her mind. Picking up her suitcase, she strode out into the tiny kitchenette and began to noisily place various items into it.

Draco cringed as each tin being thrown in clanged against each other. He tried to ignore it and focused on the television ahead, whose screen was still black. He deserved a break, didn't he?

Eventually, Hermione came back out with her suitcase minimised. Her cheeks were still red, yet were now stained with tears. Without so much as glancing at him, she walked to the hotel room's door, dropping a key on the small, wooden table next to it.

"Merry Christmas, Malfoy. Don't wait up."

He flinched at the cold, unfeeling tone in her voice. Sighing heavily as she shut the door, he stood up, his legs already beginning to ache with the prospect of more walking. He would definitely regret this decision in the morning, he knew.

"Hermione, hold on."

* * *

"This is it! It must be! Look, it even has their name written here," Hermione squealed excitedly from a nearby wire fence.

Draco swung his head back and forth, but could only see the same long, rusty-brown dirt driveway winding up the hill that they had been trudging along for almost half an hour now. He had been forced to listen to Hermione's endless chatter about the smell of the large, green pine trees lining the walk, as well as to her laughter at his startled reaction to the cows that he had not noticed were lying in the trees' shade. Now it appeared that she had found some other detail to marvel at in this strange countryside.

"Don't tell me they live underground or something?" he asked, walking towards her.

Hermione shook her head with a smile and pointed to what appeared to be a large, plastic milk carton on a wooden pole. "Don't be silly. No, this is their mailbox, see? Inside I found these letters addressed to a Mrs and Mr W. Wilkins, this has to be them!"

Her eyes were shining as Draco raised his shoulders doubtfully. There must be a million Wilkins around – a single letter didn't prove it was the Grangers. Nevertheless, Hermione gave him no time to question her as she continued briskly up the hill, "Come on, we're almost there!"

With a glance at the large, cobalt-black cow sitting close to the fence – too close for Draco's liking – he set off after her, complaining of the way his backpack always seemed to be heavier.

After what felt like another half hour, though Draco guessed it was probably only ten minutes judging by the way Hermione kept up her swift pace; the couple reached the top of the hill and came face to face with a modest brick house. It was by no means anywhere near as magnificent as his old manor was, with the house covered with a few natural plants that wound up the dark brickwork. A wide path of pebble stones wound around the perimeter of the house, leading to a large woven 'welcome' mat in front of the door.

Draco made to walk straight to the front, ready to investigate, yet was called back by Hermione's wistful sigh. She was once again standing along the fence line, looking out at the view below. Large, green paddocks rolled out along a valley, spreading out towards clumps of trees and a river. The horizon was blocked by large, dark blue mountains in every direction; their tree covered forms reaching up to the sky.

"I imagine those mountains would attract snow in the colder months," she said quietly, eyeing them longingly. A few wisps of brown hair flew across her face in the light breeze, and as she swiped them away, Draco could see her face was glowing with happiness. "It's almost like home in a way, no wonder my parents chose this place."

It was nothing like England as far as Draco was concerned, yet even he could appreciate how quiet and peaceful it seemed.

"I suppose I'd better go and find them then, shouldn't I?" she asked, smiling at him. He smiled encouragingly back, gesturing for her to go ahead.

Hermione slowly walked to the door, rubbing her forearms as she went. She paused for a moment, looking back at him, before reaching up and pressing the brass doorbell on the wall. Immediately, tinkling chimes could be heard from around the house and a dog's bark sounded from within. Hermione hurriedly smoothed down her clothes and stood straighter, her hands falling beside her in an almost soldier-like position.

Reaching forwards, Draco grasped one of her hands, letting her know there was no need to be nervous. He felt her squeeze it as the door creaked open, and again as an old, stooped lady appeared around its edge.

"Oh, hello dear, what can I do for you?" the lady's eyes crinkled behind her glasses as she smiled at them curiously.

She was nothing like the elderly Draco was used to seeing. He was used to stern- looking, straight-backed matriarchs like his mother's mother, Druella – she never looked as though she'd suddenly whip out a fresh batch of cookies like this woman obviously wanted to.

Hermione, finding her voice, quickly replied, "We're sorry to intrude like this, but, erm, I was wondering if Mr Wilkins and his wife lived here?"

The old lady nodded quickly. "Do I detect a British accent? I do! Well, why yes, they do live here. Monica is with the others in the kitchen, but I'll go fetch Mr Wilkins – good man he is, sharing the holiday spirit with the neighbours. Would you like to come in?"

Hermione nodded politely and moved forward into the foyer, letting go of Draco's hand. The old lady smiled fondly at both of them before shuffling off further into the house. A small, white, fluffy terrier bounded about her slippered feet, yapping as she headed towards the kitchen area.

He watched as Hermione began to move from side to side, dancing slightly on her feet. Though he could tell she was trying to still, he caught her trying to peak around the corner of the foyer wall once or twice as the voices and laughter inside grew louder. He didn't blame her, however; for some reason, his own heart began to race, and he found it hard to wait for the woman to return.

"Yes, they're waiting right here, just by the front door. Oh, I didn't catch their names, but the girl seemed rather keen to see you."

Eventually the old woman came back into view, followed closely by a rather tall man. His greying hair was brushed back neatly, and his eyes sparkled curiously behind his wired spectacles. As the man flashed them a small smile, revealing even, white teeth, Draco almost smiled back, realising that his eyes matched Hermione's. This had to be him; finally.

"Yes, can I help you?" the man asked, tilting his head to the side.

Hermione must have been just as pleased as he was, for she didn't immediately answer. Turning to her, he was somewhat surprised to see that her face was crumpled, the light gone from her eyes. Swallowing thickly, she shook her head, trying to find the words she wanted.

"Erm, yes, sorry, are you Mr Wilkins?" Draco asked hesitantly, wondering if perhaps the old lady had gotten the wrong person.

"Yes…"

"I'm sorry, wrong house, excuse us," Hermione interrupted, stumbling backwards out the door.

Draco shrugged as the man looked after Hermione bewildered. "Sorry, erm, long day." Then, ignoring the old lady as she said something along the lines of, "oh dear, I wonder what all that was about?" he rushed out after her.

"Hermione?"

The brunette was over near the fence again, pacing angrily before it. Shadows crossed her face as she muttered darkly under her breath. "Stupid, knew it was too good to be true, stupid, stupid... ouch!" Yelping as she kicked the fence and gained a small electric shock, she picked up a rock and threw it.

Tears began to stream down her face, leaving salty streaks as she glared out at the mountains. Wavering on the spot, Draco tried to think of something comforting to say. He had been sure that perhaps Hermione was right; perhaps this was the place they had been searching for. His own heart had plummeted when he realised their folly – Hermione's must have been wrenched out. Really, what words of comfort could he offer?

He decided instead to walk up to her and stand by her side, watching as her chest heaved up and down. He remained there, watching the scenery in silence, until Hermione's breathing became even.

"C'mon, let's go back to the hotel," she quietly said, heading back towards a shady part appropriate for Disapparition. "We may as well enjoy what's left of today."

"No, let me do it."

Draco linked his arm through Hermione's, knowing she would be too upset to try. He wasn't surprised when she quietly accepted the gesture, despite her usual desire to be in control of their travel. As he turned them together on the spot, he had a last glimpse of the peak of one of the mountains, and an idea formed in his head.

Perhaps he could save their Christmas, or at least make it better.

* * *

"Hermione, can you come in here for a minute?"

"I'm busy."

"C'mon, hurry up, just for a minute."

"Alright, alright. Where are you?"

"In the lounge area."

Draco huffed impatiently as he waited for Hermione to come into the room. She could be so stubborn when she wanted to be, and it seemed now, at the most inopportune time, she was going to be more so than ever.

"This better be important. I'm not your house-elf, you know, I can't come at every call," Hermione grumbled as she walked slowly into the tiny room, her head stuck in a book. "I think there may be a place that – oh Merlin!"

Her eyes widened as she looked up, causing Draco to smirk. Her mouth opened slightly, and it took several moments of rapid blinking before she could manage to say anything else.

"Draco how- what- you did this?"

"No, the house-elves did. Of course I did!" He rolled his eyes, though his smirk widened. "Do you like it?"

Striding forward, she let the book fall out of her hands to the carpet with a dull thud. Her head moved back and forth, trying to find a place to focus on. Finally, she settled for reaching forward and grasping a branch of the small pine tree before her, carefully feeling the bristles between her fingers. Snowflakes fell gently to the floor, clinging to her hair and landing lightly upon her eyelashes.

"It's not exactly the biggest tree, but it was the only natural tree I could find on short notice," he apologised, shrugging his shoulders. "The snow is real though… sort of."

Hermione swung around to face him, her eyes gleaming. Her cheeks were rosy; Draco had the suspicion that they weren't so just from the lights that twinkled on the trees.

"It's- it's- it's beautiful! Just like home…" Hermione cried, running forward suddenly and enveloping him in a fierce hug.

He let out a laugh, stroking her hair. Bending down slightly to wipe off some of the snow from her nose, he murmured into her ear, "Merry Christmas, Granger."


End file.
